They reached the first stone, smooth and warm from the sun. Fate tested it with their foot, feeling it steady beneath them. The stream whispered around the edges, soft and welcoming.
Fate stepped on it, then another stone, then another. Each one felt like a small promise—safe, solid, waiting.
The Dreamer followed, their steps calm and sure. The water below them sparkled, breaking the sunlight into tiny dancing shards.
When they reached the middle of the stream, Fate paused.
"It feels different here," they said softly.
"How so?" the Dreamer asked.
Fate looked down at the ripples curling around the rocks. "Like the world is holding its breath."
The Dreamer listened for a moment. Then they nodded. "Yes. Even quiet places have their own heartbeat."
Fate smiled at that, then stepped onto the next stone. The last one brought them to the far bank, where the grass grew a deeper green, touched by the cool mist of the stream.
They stepped onto the shore together.
